The One With the Wraith and Pony Show
by ALC Punk
Summary: BSG 2003, SG: Atlantis. Meshing two such disparate crews is not without its problems, however, most of the strife is coming from external sources. Chapters are consecutive, but not necessarily immediately linear.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Not Mine. Rating: 13+ish, bad words, sexual innuendo Words: 3,700+ Pairings: Kara/Anders, Weir/Sheppard. One is a little more subtle than the other. /dryly  
Notes: I give up trying to write gen when Kara and Anders are concerned. Sigh. This was written on the prompt got off my fortune-teller thingie (it likes Lantis/BSG crossovers) "Liz Weir, Sam Anders, boom.  
Spoilers: er... Lantis, none I can think of. BSG, post-Unfinished Business. I give up on titles. 

**_The One With the Wraith and Pony Show_** by ALC Punk!

"I hope this works."

Sam Anders glanced at Dr. Elizabeth Weir and didn't respond. Answering her might give their position away, and he was hoping that wouldn't happen. Not just yet, anyway. His own hands were busy on another detonator--not that he has anything to actually use it on--the small store of C4 that Weir had been carrying was already exhausted. But it's something he could do while he waited. Sam was pretty good at waiting. The bomb they'd set an hour before should be going off soon.

There was silence between them. Out in the woods, Sam could hear the occasional movement. Toaster, Wraith or skinjob, it didn't matter. Anyone looking for them was a bad idea.

It was Sheppard's fault--or more accurately, his informant's fault that Dr. Weir and Sam were pinned down with no hope for escape. The planet was supposed to be safe, and the two of them--along with a contingent of marines who needed downtime--decided to explore it as a possible location for a new Beta Site. Or even as a place for the fleet to settle, for the time being.

Of course it went to hell in a handbasket.

Anders wasn't sure if the marines were still alive or not. The arrival of the Wraith had seen he and Weir ordered under cover. The last they'd glimpsed of Sergeant Hadrian, she'd been deploying her troops to take out the one dart that was inspecting the planet.

That was before the heavy raider had landed.

Now, Sam was a man who believed in contingency plans. And even though he'd been told to keep Dr. Weir safe, he couldn't quite escape the need to plan. And thus, he'd rigged one bomb and detonator from pieces of his and Dr. Weir's gear.

There'd been an argument over who would set the bomb, but Sam had won simply because he knew he was expendable.

Dr. Weir was not.

Setting the minute charge against the fuselage of the heavy raider was pretty pointless, but it was intended as a distraction only. Not that Anders wanted the cylons to have a clue about the gate network, but they had to radio for help somehow--and, as Sam had said, it wasn't like he could throw a rock or whistle and be heard back at the city.

It was just lucky there was a scheduled contact time so they could time everything properly.

They were settled near the gate. Close enough to send a radio signal, but far enough away that when it flared into life, they wouldn't be easy targets to the Wraith.

Annoyingly, the Wraith and the Cylons seemed to have some sort of agreement to leave each other alone. Though there'd been one altercation between a skinjob and an over-eager scout that had resulted in the scout's death. Otherwise, the two groups avoided each other.

It wasn't that Sam underestimated Dr. Weir, or thought she needed to be protected because she was a woman. If he thought that sort of crap (and quite a few of the members of the Atlantis expedition seemed to view women as delicate creatures, which made most of the Galactica and Fleet members laugh), his wife would have beaten it out of him long ago. She was just important, being the head of the Atlantis Expedition and the one in charge.

Sam wouldn't ever cross President Roslin, either.

Both women could eat him for breakfast, in the political arena. But in the guerilla tactics arena, he was king.

Sort of.

Really, Sam would be much happier doing nothing but playing pyramid, but life, and the Gods, seemed to like throwing obstacles in his path.

"Time," Weir murmured.

Sam's makeshift bomb exploded, sending birds shrieking into the air and centurions moving away from the stargate and towards their raider.

"Atlantis to the lazy--"

"This is Dr. Weir. Tell Colonel Sheppard we've got a situation: one Wraith dart, and a possible cylon baseship. I say again--" Something squealed from the radio and Elizabeth swore, twisting the sound down.

"Jamming." Sam supplied. He sighed. "And now they know we're here."

Without waiting for his direction, she pulled the pistol she'd been assigned and began moving out. Sam followed her, knowing that any objection would take time. Not to mention sound could alert their pursuers. Besides, he was pretty sure she was competent with her weapon--and, well, if they stayed where they were, they were sure to get found.

On the other hand, they could step out into a centurion patrol.

The sound of centurion guns clicking on made Sam move forward, shoving Weir to the ground and dropping on top of her.

No shots rang out, but an amused voice called, "Well, what have we here? Two rats in a maze."

Three. Sam gritted his teeth and stayed where he was, listening to Elizabeth Weir's breath quicken. Perhaps she wasn't exactly sure where they were.

A centurion suddenly uprooted one of the bushes in front of them. And Three called, "It's no use hiding. We saw you. Come out, or the centurions will simply fire until you're nothing but pulp."

Sam carefully climbed to his feet, hoping Weir would stay down. When she did, he stepped out past the centurion, arms out to his sides. "Fine. You got me."

"Well. Well, well, well." Three seemed almost happy to see him, "The great and powerful Samuel T. Anders. Caught like a little mouse. And Dr. Elizabeth Weir, of course," she called past Sam, "If you don't come out, my dear, I'll have him shot. I'm not certain where, of course. It might be a matter of random chance."

"Don't shoot." Elizabeth came out of hiding, moving to stand next to Sam. She shot him an apologetic glance.

"How interesting. Samuel Anders, the only member of the New Caprican resistance never taken in for questioning is caught on a backwater little planet in the middle of nowhere." Three was mocking him, her eyes cold.

"Hey, I was just a pyramid player."

"Oh, you sell yourself short. You were the conductor of an orchestra of violence that culminated in suicide bombings and the Cylons voluntarily leaving New Caprica."

Weir made a sound, and Three laughed, "You didn't know that, my dear?" She looked at Elizabeth with false sympathy, "I'm so sorry to burst your bubble. It appears Adama hasn't been exactly forthcoming with details of the atrocities his people have committed." She tsked. "Your knight in shining armor is rather tarnished."

"Hey. I don't remember the Cylons leaving because they were benevolent." Sam objected.

"Perhaps. Still, sending humans with bombs strapped to them? Such a dirty trick, in peacetime."

"You had hundreds locked in detention," Sam said, tone bitter. "What else were we to do, petition the government? The same one that signed the death warrants for four hundred people?"

"All you had to do was cooperate. Coexist peacefully--"

"You had my WIFE." Allowed to be angry about it now, Sam's voice echoed in the forest. When there were people at stake, he'd had to pretend, had to not care. Now? Now he was allowed to care.

"Ah, yes. Kara Thrace. Tell me, has she recovered from Leoben's little mind games, or is she still playing you false?" There was vicious laughter in Three's tone.

Sam clamped his lips closed on the things he wanted to say. His life wasn't her business.

Really, he'd expected this sort of thing from the cylons. He'd encountered Three and her ilk when he was a pyramid player. Journalists didn't care about your feelings, they simply wanted their story. And D'Anna Biers had been very good at digging out the sordid parts of peoples' lives.

What he didn't expect was for Elizabeth Weir to suddenly turn and tackle him back into the bushes.

Three apparently didn't, either. But she wasn't given time to deal with the matter as a missile flashed into life, exploding and taking out Three and most of the centurions. A second missile took out the rest.

Weir waited a moment, then picked herself up and looked around the devestated clearing. "Definitely not using this as a Beta Site."

A puddlejumper de-cloaked and landed in the now-empty clearing, the back opening. Sam pulled himself to his feet and followed her inside. "Probably not a good idea," he agreed absently.

"That was quick," Weir said as she stepped into the cockpit.

Colonel Sheppard looked back at them, lazy grin on his lips. It wasn't echoed in his eyes. "Well, you know, I was thinkin' of coming to join you. Have a picnic in the sun and all that."

"Did you bring wine?" asked Weir with an amused look.

Sam settled into the chair opposite her and listened as they rose into the air again.

An explosion from nearby made him glance at Sheppard.

"That was Starbuck and Lorne, taking care of the rest of the bad guys."

"Kara's here?"

"Yeah. She kind of insisted on coming on the rescue--said she wanted the score even again."

Sam snorted and shook his head. Kara was an idiot. He still had a hell of a ways to go before he matched her rescuing his ass from Caprica. The retrieval from the detention center had, once she'd gotten on her feet, been under her own power. And if it hadn't been him, it would have been the resistance. As far as he was concerned, it didn't count. Now he owed her twice over.

They reached the other jumper shortly, and watched as it rose into the air, full of marines. It waggled back and forth, then shot upwards with a blithe disregard for gravity.

"Who's flying that?" Weir sounded disturbed.

"Kara," replied Sam, dead certain. There was only one pilot with that kind of flash in the air.

"Major Lorne was supposed to be the one in charge." Noted Sheppard, sounding amused.

"My wife," Sam said dryly, "Can be very persuasive."

"So I've noticed." Sheppard shook his head, "She's charmed half the marines out of their salaries without even trying. And that's not to mention--"

"Colonel," interrupted Weir, "Are we going directly back to Atlantis?"

"Nah. Thought we'd go by way of a couple planets, keep anyone from following us."

Something that had been bothering Sam made him ask,"Dr. Weir, there was no way to see the jumper. So, how'd you know Sheppard was there?"

"Well, when you work with someone, you build up a rapport over time that--"

"Eh." Sheppard interrupted with a smirk, "I was ogling her breasts."

"Yes." replied Weir dryly, "I noticed."

Ah. Sam blinked. Suddenly, certain things made sense. He considered, and nodded, "Yeah. Kara notices that, too. She glares if I've been staring too long."

-

The trip back to Atlantis was uneventful, and the jumpers landed in the bay, disgorging their contents of slightly dazed-by-Starbuck-marines along with Sam, Weir, and the rescue squads. Kara was in full Starbuck mode, trading mockery and jokes with Lorne as she swaggered, cigar (unlit, for the moment) in her mouth.

Sam decided he didn't care what mood she was in. He grabbed her from behind, jerking her into his arms. "Hey, baby, miss me?"

"Hell no." She replied, tipping her head back to stare at him.

A snort escaped Sam, and he raised his eyebrows, "That's sad. I missed you."

She rolled her eyes, "Good to know."

Uncertain, suddenly, Sam pulled back from her and shook his head. Obviously, she wasn't over her little flirtation--if she ever would be. And he wasn't even going to consider that. "Never mind. I should know better. How's the Major?"

"Apollo is just fine." She replied, voice quiet. Then she turned and glared. "You give up a lot easier, nowadays."

"Hey. I'm only human," he snapped, bitter. "I can't try to hang on without some sort of reason, Kara."

"Sex isn't enough?"

"No."

"Fine." Kara turned away from him.

"Five bucks," one of the marines said. "And she punches him."

Sam blinked. He realized that the entire bay had been watching their exchange avidly, and now the Galactica marines were laying bets? What the frak.

"Twenty credits," Kara yelled, turning and nailing them all with a look.

"What's the bet?"

"Sammy fraks that cute little Athosian." Her smirk firmly in place, Kara looked at him. "She's a hot little thing, all dark skin and muscles. You like 'em like that, doncha?"

Glaring, he started stalking towards her, "Kara."

"And another five that Ronon kicks his ass for even thinking about it." Kara called, backing away from him.

"I'll take that bet!" One of the more reckless marines called.

There were more bets exchanged, but Sam's focus narrowed to Kara, and the fact that she had nowhere to go. She seemed to realize this fact too late to do more than squeak when he trapped her against the jumper. "You," he informed her, still glaring, "are trouble."

"Yeah?" Kara stretched, arms sliding around his neck, "That's why you married me, though."

"No," he contradicted her, pressing her firmly against the jumper and refusing to bend. "I married you because I love you."

"Gods, you're a sappy bastard. Why don't you go spread sunshine and flowers to the Athosians or something?" But, surprisingly, she didn't release him and she didn't shove him away.

Sam took that as a good sign and shook his head. "Don't wanna."

"Sam..."

"Ten quid says one of them brings up their marriage vows."

"We didn't say any," Sam replied without bothering to see who'd made the bet. Well, they had, just not the sort of vows the Lantians were used to.

"Does that count?"

"No." ruled a marine.

"I've got five on them showing off their tattoos."

Sam suddenly smirked, "Hey, baby, wanna show off our tattoos?"

"Depends which ones you mean, sugar-lips."

"I don't know," he bent his head, teasingly brushing her nose with his apparently sugary lips. "I can think of one..."

"And I can think of several, Sam." She patted his shoulder. "And you're not the only one who gets to see all of them."

That froze him. He pulled back and straightened. "Kara..."

"Hey." Her eyes serious as she looked up at him, she took her arms from his neck and tugged at her flight suit, pulling it down her left arm, exposing the stark black lines on her arm. "I could get rid of this now, you know. We both could. Dr. Beckett was quite interested in explaining methods of tattoo removal."

Sam could smell the tang of ozone at the back of his throat. Probably left over from the jumper's missiles. He stepped back from Kara. "Yeah. If you--"

"No." She moved with him, hands at his waist, "I don't."

It wasn't a promise. It wasn't a vow. It wasn't a damned thing. But Sam would take what he could get, from her. Because if there was one thing he knew about Kara Thrace it was that she ran from anything that meant emotional attachment. Including him.

"All right."

"Good." She suddenly smirked, the Starbuck trademark back in full force. "Because I've just done some fantastic flying, and I could use a little sex to remove the edge, Sammy."

He snorted and turned her, letting her grab his hand and tug it over her shoulder. "Yeah? What makes you think I'll put out?"

"You're easy," she shot back, shoving the cigar back between her lips and waggling her eyebrows at him suggestively.

"So're you." Sam pointed out smugly.

"Anders," called Sheppard.

"Don't bother me, man." Letting a truly goofy grin cross his lips, Sam glanced back at the crowd, "I'm gonna go have sex with my wife."

His very hot, very willing, very scary as frak, wife.

-

"Interesting."

Colonel Sheppard looked at Elizabeth Weir and raised his eyebrows, "Do you think we could have them do that every afternoon until the new football season starts?"

Her lips twitched, but she didn't laugh, "I'll ask Admiral Adama if he can make that part of his concessions," she suggested, eyes bright with amusement. "I'm sure he'll get a laugh out of it."

They watched the marines and Lorne's group discuss the departed couple, then slowly wander out of the jumper bay. It left the two of them in relative silence. Elizabeth let out a soft sigh and relaxed into that silence. Sheppard let her, knowing her moments of silence were few and far between. He busied himself with making sure all of the jumpers were settled for the time being, then came back to find her sitting on a ramp, idly toying with the pistol she'd had, just as a precaution.

"Y'know, I'm glad you know how to use that."

"Mmm." She didn't look at him, eyes focused elsewhere.

Sheppard reached out and pulled the leaf from her hair, the one that had been there since he'd picked her up. He'd left it there to amuse himself, and also to prove that she was as human as he was. "We should go. Get coffee."

"Yeah." Flicking the safety on, she stood in one fluid movement and holstered her weapon. "And I should probably turn this into the armory and start my report."

"Reports can wait." Telling himself this was perfectly allowed, John caught her elbow and tugged her out the door with him. "There's a perfectly nice cup of coffee in the cafeteria, just waiting for you to ruin it with sugar and cream."

She chuckled and relaxed again. "If you say so, Colonel."

"I do, Doctor."

They exchanged a grin and then Sheppard released her elbow and they continued on to the cafeteria.

-

Sam huffed out a breath and clutched Kara a little closer against him. "You know..." He trailed off, looking down at her almost as though he were memorizing every fleck of color in her eyes.

"You're such an ass," she informed him, just as breathless.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

He laughed, deep in his chest and kissed her shoulder. "So what's our take?"

"Don't know," she paused to arch a little, gasping slightly when he nipped. "--didn't think to negotiate terms."

"Mmm." Sam got distracted with his mouth.

So did Kara, because his lips were moving so very slowly across her still-sensitive skin. She moaned a little and reached down to cup his ass. Sam made a sound of approval and rolled onto his side, pulling her leg over his and reaching between her legs.

"I'll have to ask the sergeant," she eventually murmured, now sprawled on his chest. "Ought to be a good haul, this time."

Sam brushed a hand through her damp hair and smirked, "Though it's less, thanks to your Teyla bet."

"Hey. It sounded like a good bet. Certainly better than 'I love you'." But her tone wasn't precisely mocking.

Sam kissed her, hard. "Yeah? And yet, you're still here."

Kara tried to wriggle free of the arms wrapped around her. Half-heartedly. "Don't know why, either."

He chuckled and kissed her again. "Good sex."

"Obviously." She closed her eyes.

-

Elizabeth was back to staring pensively into nothing, her fingers toying with the mug of coffee. Around them, the cafeteria was empty. Between duty shifts and meal times, the room sometimes echoed like a cavernous waste. Especially when people insisted on tapping absently at their coffee mug with one fingernail.

Finally, he broke the silence, "Penny for your thoughts?" It was lame, but the best he could come up with on short notice.

"I was just thinking about Anders and Thrace. Their relationship..." She shook her head, "I don't think I quite understand how it survives all of the drama."

"Maybe the drama is why it survives. Or the sex."

She essayed a half-smile at that and finally drank from her mug. Her lips twisted into a grimace. "Ugh. Cold."

"Well, if you'd drunk it right off, it wouldn't be." He pointed out mildly.

The smile disappeared, and she looked at him, eyes serious, "John. The cylon we met taunted Anders about the conduct of the fleet when they were on New Caprica. She said they'd used suicide bombers. And he didn't deny it."

"They were at war," he offered.

"Desperate times call for desperate measures?" She asked, tone almost sarcastic.

"In a way, yes. Elizabeth, sometimes, in a war, you do things that you don't ever want to. You don't know what you're capable of until you're pushed." With his training, with the mind set of the military, John Sheppard could understand the suicide bombings. He didn't like the idea, and he didn't condone it, but he could understand the necessity of it.

"Like blowing up Atlantis." Her reply was quiet and she set her mug down with a click.

"Yeah."

A shiver went through her and she shook her head, "I think I need time to process this."

"Process what? Elizabeth, these are the same people they were this morning. You just know a little more about them."

"Are they?"

"Well, yeah." He paused, then grinned, "Of course, you could find out they love cold coffee. Then we'd have to ban them from Atlantis."

The smile on her lips didn't reach her eyes, but it was a start. "I should go, work on our treaty notes and go over the SGC's recommendations."

"Or you could stay here and have hot coffee."

Now the smile was more genuine. She shook her head and stood. "I have too much work, Colonel. And you should probably go make sure Rodney isn't terrorizing poor Mr. Gaeta about Dr. Baltar's cylon detector anymore."

Yeah, he probably should. But a small part of him wondered what she'd think of the idea of doing as Anders and Thrace had. Sex in the middle of the afternoon, after all, could be very relaxing. John stood and didn't ask as he grabbed her mug. "See you at dinner?"

"Uh-huh." Her eyes were distant, mind obviously already mulling over the things she needed to work on.

"Don't work too hard, Elizabeth."

She gave him a distracted nod and left. He watched her go and then shrugged and took the mugs over to the bussing station, dumping her coffee down the drain. With a sudden grin, he headed off to Rodney's lab. Maybe he could annoy the scientist into doing something resembling work.

-f-


	2. Knock 'em Down

Disclaimer: not mine.  
Rating: 13, violence, language Pairings: Kara Thrace/Sam Anders, Athena/Helo, Elizabeth Weir/John Sheppard (think that's it) -- oh, implied Cadman/Teyla/Ronon.  
Set: after the previous crossover, The One With the Wraith and Pony Show, which is, itself, set sometime during season three of Lantis and season three of BSG, post-Unfinished Business (on BSG's side.  
Spoilers: Vague ones? I think?  
Length: 3,300+ Prompt: Helo, Sheppard, Pedestal 

**_Knock 'Em Down_** by ALC Punk!

"We build them up, you know. Put them so high..."

Colonel John Sheppard shook his head, trying to concentrate on the panel across the hall from the cell door. If he could just develop telepathy, he could tell it to open the door. And he wanted it to open. He was getting a little tired of Captain Karl Agathon's incessant rambling. It wasn't the captain's fault, the Wraith had shot him up with something, some sort of 'enhancer'. John hadn't wanted to ask, but he'd a pretty good idea it made the meal spicier. Which was icky. Luckily, before they'd had time to feed, they'd gotten distracted by an attacking vessel. A hasty relocation of the prisoners had left John without ammo and Agathon without a brain--or his shirt. They really had been about to munch on him.

Unfortunately, for all he knew, the Wraith had decided not to return until Helo shut up. That could take a while. The man seemed to be stuck on a mental track where he talked about how great and complicated his wife was, and how everyone needed a woman like her.

Sensing it was going to be a really long night, John considered singing '99 Bottles' to pass the time. But he always got lost somewhere around 42. He wasn't sure why.

Besides, Agathon's rambling was going to keep them occupied with sound for hours yet.

A sound from the corridor made him stiffen, and he moved to one side of the door, waiting too see whether the Wraith passing would give him an opening or not.

Instead of a Wraith, Starbuck appeared in the doorway, looking, well, hot. And dangerous. John had to admit that a woman in black with a gun and a certain gleam in her eyes was distracting. She seemed to be all business, though, as she assessed the door, then flashed him a grin, "Sam, I think you brought just the thing."

Her husband appeared over her shoulder, took one look at the door and snorted, "Kara, I've got stuff that'll take out heavy raiders. That, we can probably shoot."

"And bring the Wraith down," John pointed out.

"A big explosion will, too."

The third member of the party appeared and growled, "What the frak's taking so long?"

Ronon had taken to Colonial swearing like a duck to water.

"We're having an argument about the lock," Anders supplied.

"Just blow it," snapped John, "The Wraith'll be down here as soon as the doors open, anyway." Probably.

"Maybe." With a glance at Helo, Sam Anders handed his weapon over to Starbuck and moved to fix a small blob of what had to be C4 to the webbing of the door. "Stand back," he suggested, tone mild.

Starbuck shoved his rifle back at him, "Go watch the end of the corridor, Sam."

"Yes, sir." He moved off, Ronon following.

The two disappeared around the corridor, and John moved back to prod Agathon in the ribs with the toe of his boot. "C'mon, man, we gotta get away from the door."

"Starbuck always did like explosions," Helo informed him before attempting to crawl backwards.

John helped him as best he could--Helo was a big, tall guy. And while John was tall, he wasn't ithat/i tall. Sometimes, with Anders, Agathon, Dex and Tyrol around, he felt the need to track down Lee Adama just to feel bigger than someone.

The explosion wasn't the loudest bang John had heard, but he definitely felt like his head would ring for days afterwards. It worked, though, disintegrating most of the webbing and leaving a gaping hole for anyone to walk through.

Starbuck hustled into the cell, prodding Agathon with a toe, "Helo, what have a I told you about playing with strangers?"

"Hey, Starbuck. Still hate Sharon?" He batted at her foot.

"As always," she rolled her eyes. "We didn't bring you a spare shirt, so you're stuck."

"Hey," Anders reappeared, watching the corridor carefully, Ronon behind him, "Nothing, yet. We should go, though. What's his deal?"

"They drugged him." Sheppard eyed Agathon. There was no way in hell he was going to get the man to his feet on his own, "A little help here?"

Anders grunted and stopped to grope his wife before holding his rifle out to John, "You might need this," then, once John had accepted it, he moved and grabbed Agathon's hands, hauling him to his feet. Once there, he got a shoulder under Helo's, keeping him upright. "C'mon, man, your wife is waiting back at the raider for you."

Making a note to find out how the fuck the random groping thing worked for the two of them (another note), Sheppard shoulder the rifle and moved to take point, "Ronon, cover." And also to find out where Teyla and--god forbid--McKay were, since he would have expected his team to save his ass, not this mixed grouping.

"And I'll play monkey in the middle," Starbuck muttered from right behind him.

John didn't jump, his attention focused on the corridor, "Which way?"

"Left."

A glance back showed him Starbuck half-helping drag Helo along. That would slow her reaction time a little, but Sheppard wasn't worried. Ronon was right behind them, and he trusted the man's ability to react faster than a cat in a box to an attack. Going left, he moved carefully, but quickly. Anders seemed to have Helo in hand, and the faster they were off this ship, the better. John spared a thought for blowing it up, but there wasn't time. Or enough explosives.

Still, the thought of crippling the ship was a nice one, "Anders, you got anymore of those party favors?"

"A few. What'd you have in mind?"

"Well," Sheppard paused to check down the cross-corridors, "Straight?"

"Straight."

"Well," he continued, carefully moving past and then motioning the others to follow as he and starbuck covered both ways, "I was thinking of planting some in key systems."

"As much fun as that sounds," Anders said, "We've already got that covered." He grunted, "Helo, I think you need to lay off the doughnuts, man."

"Frak you." Was Helo's cheerful reply. Luckily for their stealthy mode, Helo had stopped talking sometime before.

"Sheppard." Ronon called.

John was already tracking the slight movement before his mind registered that it was Teyla and Cadman, and not a Wraith. Teyla shot him a look, then slid past him to lend Anders a hand with Agathon, "Teyla? Cadman?" Cadman fell into step in front of Ronon with a choppy salute.

"The Wraith are occupied. I suggest we hurry," Teyla informed him.

"I get to blow things up next time, right Sam?" demanded Starbuck.

"Hey, baby, you're the one who wanted to rescue Helo. I would have sent you with Cadman."

"Yeah, yeah. Helo, you are so not worth missing exploding Wraith."

"Thanks, Starbuck."

"Hey, what am I, chopped liver?" asked Cadman, "I set good explosives like a good little demolitions expert."

Sheppard ignored the banter as best he could, concentrating on their escape route. Teyla directed him with a calm he didn't feel. The back of his neck was itching, like this was a bad plan. It was the same itch he'd gotten when he was in a plane, and something wasn't quite right. "This is too easy," he finally murmured.

"Yes." Teyla agreed.

Her agreement startled him, and he glanced back to find that she and Ronon were just as watchful as he, while the people from Galactica seemed almost relaxed. Cadman was bouncing a little on the balls of her feet, as if waiting for something. Given her accuracy with timers and detonations, Sheppard assumed it would be happening shortly.

And yet, Starbuck was the first one to hear the approaching bad guys. "Anyone hear that?" The question was rhetorical, as Ronon and Teyla had both tensed.

There was no cover. John looked back, "Don't suppose anyone noticed any doorways to duck into?" His tone was mild, but his question was serious.

"None," reported Anders as he accepted the pistol Starbuck handed him.

"Try to shoot straight, Sam."

"Hey." he objected, tone mild, "I'll have you know I can shoot better than you can."

She scoffed, "Yeah, right."

Damn. Frowning and trying to ignore them, John listened to the sound. It wasn't the march of booted feet, it was more metallic. Like the clank a 302 had when it landed on deck, even if the pilot was good enough to make it a soft landing. But there was something harsher about this sound. "That really doesn't sound like the Wraith," he offered, as they quickened their pace, looking for a place to make a stand.

"Maybe the toasters missed their favorite guinea pig," joked Starbuck.

"Hey!"

She ignored Helo, "If it is them, we might not make it back to the raider."

"Don't borrow trouble, Kara," Anders suggested, tone dry.

"Bite me, Sam."

"Not now, baby."

"Would you both shut up?" John asked as he came to a corner. Damn, if he was going to get shot by Cylons, he'd prefer it not be with the bickering old married couple at his back. "God. Rodney is less annoying."

"I'll tell him you said that," replied Teyla, her tone amused.

Sheppard didn't get a chance to answer as two centurions came around the corner and halted, red-lit eye-slits obviously investigating the sight before them. Not lowering his weapon, John called, "Hi. Mind if we walk past you?"

When the Cylons made no movement, John edged slowly closer.

This time, Ronon didn't say anything before the woman walked around the corridor. It was Athena, or maybe not, since she was wearing civilian clothing. She stopped and stared at them, then snapped, "Shut down."

Immediately, the centurions went dormant.

John didn't lower his rifle. "So. You gonna take us all in on your own?" he asked, tone mild. He wasn't sure which Sharon Valerii this was, but it didn't matter. Most of them seemed to have a hate-on for the colonials.

"No." She crossed her arms, and ignored John, gaze fastening on Starbuck, "Despite what you think, we don't all hate you. Some of us even remember the good times, Starbuck."

"You weren't there for them."

"Maybe I was. You'll never know."

"Keep thinking that."

Sheppard interrupted them, "Can we get the hell out of here before the nice Cylon decides she doesn't like us and calls some friends?"

"They don't know you're here," Sharon replied, and she sounded weary and defeated. She looked at John, eyes sad and dark, "You won't take me with you if I ask." It wasn't a question.

"Sorry, we're full up on our quota of Cylons. And Sharons."

"Yeah." She shook her head and moved to lean against the wall, "Now get the frak out of here before I change my mind."

They moved past her, Sheppard trusting that Starbuck or Anders would object if there was truly a problem. Neither did, though they were both tense. Ronon brought up the rear, walking backwards for several corridors without Sheppard asking him to.

It was a strange thing, to have the Cylons working against the Wraith. Neither of them liked the Atlantians or the colonial fleet, but they seemed to consider the latter two a lesser evil. Although John had to admit it was kind of nice, to have someone else taking on the Wraith for a change. Or some of them were, he amended, thinking about the report of a planet populated with bio-Cylons and Wraith living in supposed peace.

"Next corner, and we'll be in the open," Teyla whispered.

Looking back at Starbuck, Sheppard asked, "We got any way to make sure our Athena is really our Athena?"

"Yeah."

Taking her at her word, John gestured to Cadman and she moved to stand next to Teyla. "We're going to have to be quick about this. Starbuck, take Helo's other side. Cadman, you and Teyla cover for them. Ronon..." he waved a hand, "Do what you do best."

Ronon grunted as the others nodded, although Starbuck narrowed her eyes at his order before silently complying, shouldering Helo on her left side.

Good. John sucked in a breath, tasting the adrenaline at the back of his throat and then he slid around the corner and tried to cover the entire cavernous area before him.

A heavy raider was parked haphazardly on the bridge ahead of him. Sharon Agathon stood there. The second she spotted him, she moved to cover their retreat, gesturing, "Get onboard. Hurry, I don't know how much longer I can jam the Cylons."

"Hey, Boomer," Starbuck called, "Why'd you cry at my wedding?"

"I didn't," rolling her eyes, Athena snorted, "I wasn't AT your wedding. And don't call me that, I'm not Boomer anymore."

"Whatever."

Taking the tone to mean that this was their Boomer--or Athena, as she preferred--Sheppard gestured, "Let's get out of here. I think our welcome's a little worn."

"Helo!" Athena sounded worried as she turned her attention to him, "What happened to his shirt?"

"He lost it just for you, Sharon," cracked Starbuck.

"Hey, baby," Helo called, tone a little woozy. "You're so pretty." He smiled goofily at her.

Sam Anders snorted, "Man, you are so high."

"Are you sayin' Sharon's ugly?" Helo sounded belligerent as Sam and Kara moved him into the raider, Sharon following them.

Cadman and Teyla headed inside and then Sheppard looked at Ronon. "Let's go."

Once they were all inside, the hatch closed and Sheppard went forward to find Starbuck and Athena arguing over who was the better pilot. "Hey!" He called, "Starbuck flies us, Athena, you get on the wireless as soon as we're free and tell them to have Beckett ready to take blood samples from Helo. I'm not sure what they shot him up with, but it'd be good to know."

Starbuck smirked, saluted, and dropped into the pilot's chair.

With a disgruntled look, Athena moved to the radio that Rodney had wired in weeks before, when he'd first started playing with the raider. Sheppard didn't bother explaining to her that while she might be better attuned to the raider, Starbuck was the better pilot, he just ordered everyone to hang on as the ship lifted off. Taking his own advice, he moved to one of the odd alcoves that dotted the sides of the bridge and grabbed one of the support poles.

A deceptively small jolt indicated they'd lifted off, and then they were looping up in a lazy spiral towards the bay doors. Which were closed.

"Athena," Starbuck snapped.

"I'm on it," the Cylon replied, fingers flicking across control surfaces. The heavy raider shivered and then fired, large, high-velocity bullets smashing into the obstructing panels.

A gaping hole gave them a view to the starfield beyond the hive ship, Starbuck aimed them at it, kicking in the drive. The heavy raider leapt forward, twisting at the last second to fit neatly through the passage. She didn't even scrape, which John had been expecting, since the hole had looked a little too small.

Free, Starbuck dropped them down under the belly of the ship, flying close to the decking. Close enough, John was pretty sure he heard them scrape against it once. He had to admit the colonial pilot wasn't the worst pilot he'd seen--he was still iffy on her being the best, though she was definitely better than Athena. Better than most he'd seen, actually. Not better than he was, of course. He gave himself a mental pat on the back and promised himself more time in the heavy raider, so that, next time, he'd be the one flying their asses to safety.

"So," Sheppard asked, more to fill the time than out of any curiosity, "Were the Cylons already here, or was it just happy coincidence?"

"Happy coincidence," replied Sam. "But it looks like they're starting to hit every major vessel they come across."

On the one hand, John was glad that something was wiping out the Wraith. On the other, it meant that once they were done with the Wraith, they might turn their attention to other things: like the rest of the galaxy.

The raider suddenly lurched.

"Frak." Athena was staring at a readout, "Starbuck--"

"I see them."

And so did John, a second later, as two Cylon raiders streaked into view. The heavy raider abruptly banked and then twisted back on its course, as Athena fired the cannons. The claw-shaped ships didn't have a chance.

"Got 'em!"

"Starbuck," Sheppard ordered, "Get us back to Atlantis before they decide we make a good target."

"Yes, sir." There wasn't respect in her reply, but she did sort of mean it. The ship dropped, spiraling downwards as more raiders came into dradis contact. Radar, John thought sulkily, why couldn't they just call it radar? "Athena--"

The Cylon interrupted her with impatience, "Calculations almost done. There. We're good to go."

Starbuck didn't wait for the order, she just jumped.

--

"And I still say it wasn't my fault," Sheppard defended. It wasn't a fruitless defense, but it might end up being futile.

Elizabeth Weir snorted at him from across the conference room table. "Really? And I seem to recall it was your idea not to bother with an escort while you trained Captain Agathon in how to use the puddlejumper."

A snicker came from Starbuck, who was lounging backwards almost far enough to fall out of her chair. Next to her was Sam Anders, not quite as relaxed, but attentive and watching, as though expecting her to actually fall from the chair. "Helo attracts trouble, Dr. Weir. It's his best talent."

"Hey!" The now-recovered from his drug-induced state Helo was sitting opposite Starbuck and Anders. He even had a shirt on. "You're the one who has the most brig-time."

Elizabeth's lips twitched, and she coughed, "Thank you, Captains. I think, if everyone has finished giving their reports, that this meeting is adjourned."

"Thank the gods," Starbuck was out of her chair and halfway out of the room before Anders caught up with her after a quick bow to Elizabeth. He caught her hand, she elbowed him, and then they were out of the room.

"Damn." Sounding almost jealous, Cadman stood, "I need a husband."

"You? What for?" asked Teyla, raising one eyebrow.

"All that sex." And Cadman made it sound incredibly hot and dirty, all at once. She gave a theatrical sigh, "C'mon, Teyla, let's go make sure the explosives all got put away."

Helo had disappeared with Athena while Cadman made her observation, and that left Sheppard, Weir and Ronon watching the two women leave the room. John shook his head, sure that he hadn't really just seen Cadman proposition Teyla. Besides, Teyla liked guys. Ronon was looking oddly smug as he left, though.

"Do you sometimes get the feeling everyone is having sex but you?" It was an idle question, but Elizabeth sounded almost wistful.

John glanced at her and shrugged, "Nah."

"Just me, then," Her lips curled upwards, "You're still here, Colonel."

"Yep." John leaned back in his chair, in much the same way Starbuck had. "Just enjoying the not being captured or flown around by a maniac sensation."

"She's that bad?"

"Actually, she's that good." John admitted. Starbuck might even be a better pilot than he was. Not that he'd ever tell her that.

Elizabeth chuckled and stood, gathering her papers and palm pilot, "Well, I've got requisitions to go over, Colonel. I'm sure you've got marines to instruct, or weapons to check over, or a mission to plan."

"And a partridge in a pear tree, too."

That made her laugh.

"Y'know, I still don't get used to it."

She didn't ask what he meant, and John didn't say anything else. But he did follow her to her office and spend an hour arguing paperwork, Wraith politics, and whether the Steelers would win the Superbowl or not.

It wasn't sex, but it also wasn't going back to his room and feeling lonely.

Not that he did.

Mostly.

-f-


	3. Cut the Deck

Disclaimer: not mine.  
Rating: 13+, language, sexual innuendo Pairings: ... if I listed every possible pairing ever on Atlantis and BSG, it might cover it.  
Length: 2,300+ (most of which was written at work, giving me the goofiest grin EVER.  
Notes: Same universe as The One With the Wraith and Pony Show and Knock 'Em Down. As before, vague Atlantis spoilers, and one AU spoiler for BSG. You can all blame havocthecat for demanding more. 

Summary: Afternoon Tea has changed slightly, with the addition of the Galactica women.

_**Cut the Deck **_by ALC Punk!

"So, Barolay, what's this I hear about you and Keikeya?" Cadman never was one not to ask the hard questions.

Not that Jean got a chance to answer, since Athena snickered, and said, "I have it on good authority that the boy takes direction very well."

Cadman laughed around the cigar in her mouth. "Damn, girl, she should share."

In answer, Barolay simply looked smug and tapped her fingers on the table, "Ante up, Cadman, and quit asking questions in an attempt to hide the shittines of your cards."

"Why am I here again?" Elizabeth's voice was almost plaintive, although she looked amused. She was also teasing, considering that Afternoon Tea was her little shindig.

"Because you're the best cardsharp I know," replied Cadman, playing along and tossing two chips into the pot. "Deal, bitch."

"You've never played Starbuck," was Athena's amused reply.

Laura pulled the cigar from her mouth and grinned, "You'll have to convince her to leave off having sex to play."

A chuckle came from Teyla, sitting next to Elizabeth, her cards held negligently in one hand. "Captain Thrace is rather voracious in her appetites. One must expect such from women like us."

"Yeah, but how come she's the only one getting any cock?" Tossing down her cards with a grumble, Cadman leaned back in her chair.

"Cock is not the only thing available," Kate Heightmeyer drawled from where she was leaning against the wall, watching the proceedings. Next to her, Cally Tyrol giggled, obviously amused at the implication. "Although, Elizabeth, you might want to add batteries to your next Earth-side requisition. McKay has categorically refused to come up with an alternative."

"Did you tell Rodney what it was for?" asked Weir in amusement.

"Shit, I would PAY to see that," Cadman said. "Someone tape it, and someone tell Rodney we need him to power our vibrators."

Laughter and snickering echoed around the room. It was late afternoon, but given the beer, ambrosia, wine and cigars flowing freely, not to mention the poker being played, one would assume it was rather late at night. Dr. Weir was responsible for Afternoon Tea, as it was recorded in the daily log. Laura Cadman was responsible for everything else. It had started as Elizabeth's way of talking with Teyla and going over anything that had been missed in her departmental meetings, devolved into them bitching about how the men around them left intelligence to be desired, and changed, the day they invited Kate and Laura to join them.

They still got administrative work done, but the paperwork occasionally had liquor stains on it. Not that Stargate Command ever noticed, though Elizabeth occasionally wondered if they understood her requisitions for the provisions involved.

Cadman, predictably, brought the first member of the Galactica crew to the table--she claimed that Athena had gotten lost, and it was only fair that she get a drink before they sent her back.

The next day, Barolay and Cally showed up, one following Teyla, the latter following Kate. Seelix and Racetrack had joined them three days later. Not all of them made it, every time, as there were various duty shifts involved and schedules that didn't always lap appropriately. But those that could, did.

Expansion wasn't a bad thing, though Elizabeth wondered what would happen if they all ended up drunk and a crisis happened. Not that crises occurred during mid-afternoon on Atlantis.

Breaking back into the conversation, Elizabeth said, "We don't need to tell Rodney, I'll simply get a message back to Colonel Carter. According to Vala, the Colonel has quite an extensive library of knowledge when it comes to converting things like naquadah for battery usage."

iThat/i made Cadman's eyes widen, "Colonel Carter has a naquadah-powered vibrator?"

"If Vala is correct." Elizabeth didn't explain how she'd discovered this information. It hadn't been a conversation she'd expected to have with the alien, but the woman had been bored, and Elizabeth had quickly discovered that a bored Vala meant salacious, wacky, and frequently diverting conversation.

"Oh, Vala is correct. I'm sure of it. No woman could put up with Colonel Jack O'Neill and not have an industrial-strength vibrator somewhere." Cadman smirked.

"Hey, Cally," Athena said suddenly, her lips smiling slightly, but a wicked gleam in her eyes, "Chief ever perfect that handheld vibrator?"

"I knew that man was perfect," Cadman interrupted, before Cally could answer, "Hot, snuggly, AND builds vibrators. You sure you won't share him, Cally?"

Blushing, the engineer glared at Athena before answering, "No, he hasn't." Then a snicker from Seelix, flopped on the floor and watching them all sleepily, compelled her to add, with honesty, "But Seelix and I did."

"You ever thought of putting one of those in Starbuck's cockpit?" This from Racetrack, her back to the wall as she worked on the paperwork the CAG had dumped on her.

"Many, many times," Seelix said from the floor.

"Only problem is," retorted Athena, "Kara would just use it as an excuse to have more sex."

"With as many people as possible, of course," Racetrack muttered.

"Damn, you know, that Sam Anders is one accommodating son of a bitch," Cadman eyed Barolay, "You've been around him longer, is he just touched in the head or what?"

Giving nothing away, Barolay shrugged. "He's an idiot."

Elizabeth chuckled at the accurate assessment. "So, basically, we all need to get laid?" she asked, sorting the cards Teyla had just dealt.

"Except for Barolay. And Athena." Cadman replied. She swore a second later and looked at Teyla, "Stop dealing me crap cards!"

"I?" Teyla's eyebrows raised, "This is my first hand as dealer, Laura."

"I stacked the deck," called Kate, "telekinetically, of course."

"Bitch. Knew you had it in for me." Cadman threw a handful of pretzels towards Kate, missing her by a mile. But the pretzels spattered Seelix, who yelped and opened one eye to glare at Cadman.

"I could shoot you, y'know," the Chief's second in command informed Cadman, tone frosty.

"Well, yeah, but then I wouldn't help in the next prank war."

Elizabeth held up a hand, "A war of which I know nothing about. Of course."

"Of course," Teyla echoed, laying down a full house and smiling sweetly at Athena, having beaten her three of a kind. "You would never stoop to putting Nair in Colonel Sheppard's shampoo."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Elizabeth replied, tone innocent.

Cadman was arrested in the motion of reaching for the cards, it being her turn to deal. She stared at her illustrious leader. Then breathed out, tone awed, "That was you?"

"Of course it was her," Kate pointed out, tone logical. She grunted as she dropped to the floor, sitting cross-legged, and explaining, hands waving, "Who else would fear no reprisal if it was discovered? Especially since it almost caused a diplomatic incident."

"That was unforeseen," noted Elizabeth with some asperity. Then she grinned and grabbed her cards, feeling a little like a kid who'd snuck in and not only raided the cookie jar, but blown it up, too. Her ear chirped, and she tilted her head, hand coming up to press the small button, "Weir."

Everyone quieted as she held a short conversation with Major Lorne, then Elizabeth made certain it was switched off before returning to the game. She raised her eyebrows at Cadman, "Your bet, I believe."

"I distrust you when you get that look, Lizzie," Cadman informed her.

"Call me that again and you're on KP for five months. With no off-world assignments."

"Oooh. Note to self: try and get every irritating asshole to call Dr. Weir Liz--" Cadman cut herself off, and continued, before Elizabeth could throw a pretzel at her, "--that name she hates."

The door opened, then, and half the Galactica contingent shot to their feet as Laura Roslin stepped in, glancing over her shoulder to smile and thank the marine that had escorted her before closing the door and turning to face them. "I do hope I'm not interrupting."

"Not at all, Madame President." Elizabeth stood, and smiled at her, "Please, have a seat."

"And some ambrosia," suggested Cadman, shoving her cigar back in her mouth as she smirked at the president of the Colonies. "Should help loosen you up a bit."

"I was unaware I needed loosening," replied Roslin taking the offered chair. "And, please, call me Laura. Madame President seems rather formal, in here."

"Well, Laura, have you ever played poker?"

"No, though I have played triad." Looking interested, Roslin picked up the cards.

The next several minutes contained a brief explanation, two practice hands, and then a real hand. Which Cadman won, much to her surprise. Then they settled to play normally, Teyla occasionally adding explanations.

While that was going on, Elizabeth grabbed Seelix and pulled her back down to sit on the floor.

"Hey, Cally," Athena called suddenly as she stood, "Come take my place. I think 'Track needs some help with her paperwork."

"Yes! Yes, I do!" agreed Racetrack. She grumbled and waved one sheet, "Frakking Major Adama, can't do his own frakking paperwork." Not that she stopped, of course.

Elizabeth had observed the slight uneasiness in Athena as she interacted with Roslin--before, as well, though it was more noticeable now. It wasn't there as she sat next to Racetrack, reclining against the wall and holding out a hand for some of the paper the lieutenant was sorting through.

"I'm not very good at this," Cally warned the others as she took Athena's cards and chips.

"You'll be fine," Roslin told her, smiling slightly.

Unfortunately, for Cally, she was right at not being particularly good. Though she played as well as could be expected, with Roslin and Cadman trading off winning hands. Barolay seemed content to not win a thing, while Teyla seemed quietly amused about something.

Elizabeth would have to ask her later, when they met for hot cocoa on the balcony about it. Once the daily Afternoon Tea had changed itself into something more social, they'd had to resort to the balcony, sometimes sharing it with Sheppard and McKay, sometimes not. It still accomplished what they needed it for.

"So, what have you all been discussing?" Roslin asked, manner assured as she accepted her next hand from a fast-dealing Barolay.

"Vibrators," announced Cadman, smirking around her cigar, "and the lack thereof here and in the fleet."

"The latter is untrue. Chief Tyrol has been supplying vibrators to the fleet for nearly five months now," Roslin noted, her tone serene. She glanced around, taking in their surprised looks, "None of you knew? I'm impressed. Billy set it up, once the need was noticed."

Cally grinned, "I knew, sir." She didn't explain not telling her fellow workers, although perhaps, she and Seelix hadn't needed to know, really.

"Damn." Cadman looked at Jean, "Barolay, that boy doesn't have a brother, does he?"

"Frak no."

"Shit. Maybe he's a Cylon."

Loud hooting blew that suggestion out of the water, until Kate called, "Hey, Athena, you'd know, right? Are there enough Billys and Sam Anderses to go around for the rest of us?"

The Cylon shrugged, looking up from her paperwork, and sarcasm laced her tone as she replied. "Hey, don't ask me, the Final Five have yet to be revealed."

From the table, Roslin regarded Sharon, her expression blank. Then she turned back to her cards. Elizabeth made note of the expression as she'd made note of Athena's earlier uneasiness. Perhaps all was not as perfect amongst the Colonial Fleet as they would like her to believe.

"So, damn, no Sam Anders for me." Cadman let out a huge sigh, almost losing the cigar in her mouth.

"There's always marines," suggested Racetrack, "And I've heard interesting things about Hot Dog."

"Yeah, 'heard them' being a euphemism for experienced them, right, 'Track?" Seelix cracked, turning on her side. "And, if anything, you were heard."

"Frak you."

"Not my type."

"Shit, if we're going to have this discussion," interrupted Kate, her voice not at all slurred despite the three beers she'd put away, "then I demand we have a minute of silence for the almighty penis."

"Penis penis penis," crowed Cadman, "what a wonderful word. It means--"

"Definitely more than 'no worries'," Kate pointed out.

"They don't make condoms just for balloon animals," noted Cadman in reply.

"This a private party, or can anyone join?" Starbuck's lazy tone was amused. She was standing in the doorway, no marines behind her, looking as though she'd found a secret she'd been wondering about.

"Starbuck!" Jumping up, Cadman grabbed her arm and dragged her inside, shutting the door with a kick, "We were just talking about you."

"Of course you were."

"Can we clone your husband?"

Starbuck blinked, "Frak, no." Then she seemed to consider the idea, "Although, more than one of him would be useful."

"You're getting regular sex," Seelix announced from the floor, "shut up." She threw popcorn at Starbuck.

"Sharon's getting regular sex, too," Kara pointed out, dodging. "But, maybe y'could borrow him?"

"There will be no borrowing Helo."

"Which is a pity," said Cadman, leaning back in her chair with a sigh. She was still talking about the cigar in her mouth, "Because he is really nice and tall."

"You gonna smoke that, honey?" Starbuck pointed at the cigar.

"Fuck, no." Pulling it free, Cadman threw it at her. "Thought I'd save it for you. Teyla, your deal."

Elizabeth's radio chirped again, and she glanced at her watch with a sigh. Afternoon Tea was over, for her. "This is Weir, I'll be there in a moment," she told Lorne. Then she stood and smiled, "Ladies. Try not to burn the place down, please."

"I will endeavor to keep them from lighting matches," Teyla replied, grinning.

Starbuck paused, lighter flicked on and almost touching her cigar, "This isn't matches."

"Of course it isn't." With one last chuckle, Elizabeth went to the door.

She let it close behind her with a sigh, straightened her shoulders, and headed for the control room. Behind her, she was fairly certain Laura Roslin and Starbuck were about to take Cadman, Teyla and Barolay for every chip on the table. She was kind of sorry to miss the spectacle.

-f-


End file.
